Brightening - A Carnival Row One Shot
by mermaidhotty
Summary: Philo has a dream in the Gloaming that will change his life and the coarse of history forever. A quick one shot of a brief musing.


H azy blue smoke surrounded his sweat soaked body as Philo tumbled through his fever dream. This was the first time he could recall ever being aware that he was dreaming, and it frightened him. No way seemed right side up and a sense of stretching nagged at him. Usually his dreams involved fragments of his past in the orphanage, or horrors of war. This was different and it left his stomach feeling queasy, not an easy feat considering his line of work.

"Rycroft Philostrate…"

The disembodied voice echoed through the haze as he spun and twirled, no real ground keeping him in place.

"Half-blood. Fae. Man."

He knew the voice – it was the dead Haruspex, Aoife Tsigani. As if thinking the name held power of its own, two glowing purple eyes began to materialize before him.

"You have been led here, Inspector. The gloaming is a place of past and future, of what was and is and will be. Between what shouldn't be and what can be." The purple eyes took shape as the rest of the dead witch continued to billow in and out of tangibleness in the haze.

Philo stared around him, his limbs flailing without direction. "How did I end up here?"

"It was my doing," the Haruspex curled her lips with mock glee. "One of the last visions I had was of you, Inspector. I knew a great choice would need to be made based on a prophesy told years ago. A great man destined for great things."

A prophesy? Just what he needed. It wasn't bad enough with what was happening on the Row. "I want no part of your prophesies."

"I caution you against fighting what would be fate. It has been deemed to be. You will decide how easy or hard you would like the path to be, but don't be foolish to think you can take a different way." The witch grimaced as her face mixed with blue, swirling smoke.

"A terrible choice was made on your behalf when you were new to this world. Tell me, Inspector, do you know what you lost?" said the Haruspex.

Philo shut his eyes as the endless swirling of the world around him made his stomach clench. He knew exactly what she was talking about. His wings. The only part of him that connected him to his dead mother and the Fae world he barely knew.

"You lost more than that, half-blood. A Fae's wings are their freedom and their birthright. You may feel the phantom remnants of your wings, but you have never fully understood who you would have been had you been allowed to fly."

Shaking his head, Philo opened his eyes and stared into the piercing purple gaze of the Haruspex. "But the Puck said my wings were small and weak. They would have been useless reminders of a shame that I inherited."

"What does a Puck know?" The eyes seemed to grow brighter as the world around them darkened and began to churn.

The haze thickened and condensed around the half-fae. Philo struggled to breathe as blue smoke wormed its way down his throat and seemingly through ever orifice it could find.

"A prophesy inspector – to be a great man. This is my gift to you in a world thrown into chaos. Be warned, things are not about to get easier. A great darkness approaches. Keep the Brightness burning, and you may just see a better world built by your hands."

At once the haze and smoke pulled together and Philo screamed as his back was torn open.

"Philo! Philo!" Screamed Vignette, shaking her lover's shoulders as he shook and writhed in his sleep.

"What on earth?" Tourmaline hid under her covers on the bed, frightened by the sudden commotion. The other fae in the room looked on in exhausted confusion.

Philo opened his eyes in panic, scrambling against the blankets and pillow strewn around him. His body ached and he barely turned to the side as he heaved up the meager supper he'd forced down before retiring to bed.

Moans of disgruntled disgusted echoed around the room as fae made their way to leave the room.

"I'm here, you're alright," cooed Vignette, propping Philo's head in her lap as his body twitched and he blinked unseeingly at the dingy ceiling.

"Vignette," Philo blinked as he struggled to bring himself back to the present.

"You're fine," said Vignette. She stroked a hand through his unkempt hair. He was damp with sweat and his breath was rank from the vomit.

Philo let himself rest for a moment then pulled away as he struggled into a sitting position. Tourmaline stared at them from the bed, but he ignored her. A growing pain in his back was pulling all his focus away from her and Vignette.

With a grunt he doubled over again, this time from pain. His back writhed and he scratched at the floor.

"Philo?" Vignette sounded truly scared now. She stood back by the bed, grasping the post with her hands.

The muscles in his back were writhing and the faded scars from his childhood were beginning to split open.

"It can't be," whispered Vignette under her breath. She dared to step closer as Philo collapsed on his chest.

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…" The mantra fell from Philo's mouth as he struggled to stay lucid through the pain.

"Breathe." Vignette knelt in front of him and braced his shoulders, massaging the muscles that tensed as his back ripped itself open.

The sound was unnatural, and blood began to pool on the wooden floor.

"Tourmaline, get Moira. We need clean water and rags." Vignette looked up at her dear friend, but she didn't move.

"Tourmaline!" The bark spurred the other fae into action as she scurried off the bed and out the door.

"Vignette, I can feel them. They hurt." Philo's voice was faint as he spoke into the worn floor.

"Just keep breathing, Philo. You'll be alright." She clasped his shoulders tighter as he let out a low scream.

Through the fresh broken skin of his back, a pair of fae wings unfurled and twitched in the humid air. They fluttered aimlessly and Philo gasped. They were small and slightly misshapen, but they thrummed with life and energy.

"Philo," breathed Vignette. She'd never seen anything like this before or knew of anything like this happening.

Philo panted as he pushed to his knees, propping himself into a crouched position. Footsteps rang into the room, but he kept his eyes closed. He was too enthralled by the sensations that flooded through him. The feeling of muscles pulling and twitching as his wings aired and stretched.

Hands fell upon his back. Cold, wet cloth brushed along his skin, cleaning up the blood and vomit. Gentle hands slid over his frail, small wings as they were cleaned carefully and thoroughly.

"In all my days, I've never seen such a thing," said Moira, her hands lingering where the wings now laid against bare skin.

Silence stretched around the three fae as they looked to Philo for answers.

"It was the Haruspex," said Philo, He pulled himself into a sitting position, the other fae crouched around him. "I met her in the Gloaming."

"By Titania," Tourmaline grasped Moira's hand.

"Why would the Haruspex do this to you?" Vignette held his hands in hers, trying hard to not stare at the twitching wings on his back. "This will only complicate everything."

"She said it was fate. To help keep the Brightness burning so we can build a better world." Philo Shook his head, and his wings shook as well. He paused as his breath was stolen by the sensation.

"Can we have a moment?" Vignette asked the other fae.

Moira nodded and pulled Tourmaline to her feet. "Give a shout if you need us."

Smiling her thanks, Vignette wrapped her arms around Philo as he collapsed into her embrace.

"Philo," whispered Vignette. She brushed light fingers over his wing ridges, and he quivered under her touch.

"I never imagined how sensitive they would be. They always felt so heavy, especially for not being there. Now that they are…" Philo's voice trailed off.

"Will they grow?" Vignette positioned herself so she sat behind him, watching as his wings fluttered and hummed.

"I would assume so. The Haruspex said it was my birthright," said Philo. "To fly…"

"We need to keep this a secret. The Constabulary thinks your dead. If they find out that, not only are you alive, but that you've suddenly grown a pair of wings," Vignette shook her head. "I can't imagine what might happen to you.

Philo nodded his agreement. "For now. While I learn what it means to have wings."

They sat like that for a while, faces towards the window and the starry sky that lay beyond. As Vignette watched, she could tell that Philo's wings were growing. Slowly, but they no longer looked like they belonged on an infant. It would still be some time before she would teach him how to fly, but it could be a real possibility.

"Can I try something?" Vignette touched his back lightly.

Philo shuttered as his wings responded to her touch. It was as if his emotions were now written on his back, putting ever little thing he felt out into the open.

Nodding, he sat still as Vignette's gentle hands slid over his shoulders and sides. His wings extended and hummed, and he tilted his head back at the rush of sensations he felt.

As her lips landed soft kisses where the base of his wings grew from his back, he shuddered and felt a force flow from his core to his wings. A blue light began to fill the room and he glanced back to see his wings fully stretched and glowing.

Vignette smiled. Her lips met his and they melted into each other.

For the first time in his life, Philo didn't feel the shame of his birth or the weight of his secret. As his wings furled and flowed with the touches of his graceful lover, he knew he was home. The Burgue was going to be completely foreign to him now. No longer would he be able to pass as human. But he didn't want to.

He was Critch, Half-blood, Fae. He was Rycroft Philostrate, and he finally felt whole.


End file.
